Painful Symphony 1: The Sound of a Kiss
Sep. 28th, 2024 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eatthepenPainful Symphony is another loose series of mech-centric fiction I originally wrote for Cohost (really it's kinda two series, separated by about ten years in-world, but I think they work well enough in publication order). The prompt for this one was 'Mech Pilot who just, who just needs a minute okay. They've never seen that happen before and just need a minute.'
The Sound of a Kiss
Elra's voice softened, closer to its usual purr. "I'll explain, but first, tell me how you're feeling. Are you ok?" There was even a warning popup over the small comms screen just above Fonie's left-hand interface, covering the live feed of Elra's heart-shaped face and waterfall of honey-gold hair.
"I'm okay... condition green." Fonie felt her training resurface. "I'm showing overloads on... every sensor surface? That can't be right."
"I didn't ask about your Frame," Elra chided gently. In front of the WHISPER, much closer than regulations permitted, floated A CHORD OF VEILS, her armour shimmering purple-turqoise in its Hashimoto-Izubuchi phonon shield. Even the smooth, breathy tone of Elra's voice couldn't diguise her Frame's blocky deadliness. "Or your condition. How do you feel?"
Fonie took direct, conscious control of her own breathing and forced it to slow down. Elra has started asking her that question not long after they'd become wingmates, and she seemed to ask it more and more frequently as the tour of duty went on. She'd barely understood what the other pilot meant at first.
She took a long moment, letting her awareness slide down her spine, inside her ribcage, deep into her gut the slow, liquid way that she normally pushed her hands into contact gel. It felt easier than usual. She felt wrapped in something soft and warm. Like a morning lie-in, except without the scratchy fabric of bedding. Like a hot bath after a long workout, except she didn't have to worry about towels or the weird rules about who should and shouldn't see what parts of her body when she got out.
"I feel... good." Hearing it back through her headset as she spoke, Fonie was surprised to hear some of Elra's softness in her own tone. Normally her voice sounded harsh, sharp-edged. On bad days she had to duck the monitor volume. Exploring her throat with her breath, she said, "Warm... relaxed? I'm sorry, I-"
"Hush, babe. No apologies." The CHORD made a pantomime of lifting one finger to her lips. Behind her, thousands of kilometres distant, the sulfur-brown cloud wall of G.234908's upper atmosphere roiled. Elra said, "I won't tell you we're not on duty, but it's still T-minus eighteen hours and the sats are all green. The SYMPHONY won't even be in-system for half a day yet."
Fonie pulled herself upright again. "But, but I had a malfunction. We should-"
"Not a malfunction." There was laughter in Elra's tone. Fonie wished she could see her wingmate's face clearly, but she didn't dare clear any of the popups until Elra explained.
"How could that not be a malfunction?" Fonie's voice rose. "I whited out on all channels! I'm looking at-" she paused half a breath to count them - "seventeen different overload warnings."
"Sweetness, relax. I told you, remember?" If Elra had been speaking to anyone else, Fonie would have thought she heard teasing in the other woman's tone. She teased a lot. But Fonie trusted her.
There's something I want to try, she'd said, and, It should feel good, but it'll probably send your system a bit haywire. It had certainly done that. Fonie said, "What did you do? What was that?"
"Phonon resonance," Elra said, and Fonie could hear the slight, lopsided quirk of her lips in it, could picture her expression perfectly. "Now you know why they train us to keep our distance."
"Yes, I see how that would be disadvantageous in combat."
Elra laughed. "Oh babe, if we got close enough to resonate in combat we'd be dead from crashing into each other, resonance effects are trivial at five metres, never mind fifty."
The operational standard officially called for a minimum Frame-to-Frame distance of two hundred metres except for overwatch deployments in atmosphere. The proximity warnings lit up at a hundred-twenty, and few pilots would risk getting closer than seventy. "I don't understand."
"They keep us apart because it feels good to be close. Doesn't it?" A CHORD OF VEILS lifted her hand towards A WHISPER OF FEAR's cockpit, almost as if to stroke her cheek. Fonie felt hair prickling on the backs of her arms as she watched the plasteel talons approach. "Remember how you reacted the first time I kissed you? Same deal, but for our Frames."
The Sound of a Kiss
After a few moments, her vision started to clear. Colours danced and fuzzed across the dull, flat surfaces of her cockpit, like her eyes were screens skittered with static. Her heart was racing, her diaphragm tight, her breath loud in her ears. At her neck, her shoulders, between her legs, her flight suit felt too tight, hot and restrictive.
The cockpit displays flickered back to life, every single one marred by some popup or other announcing an overload. Fonie shook her head, blinking hard. Her headset slid against her hair and ears, the sound raspy and oversensitised. For a moment she let herself sag against her harness - just the way you weren't supposed to, especially in moments of vulnerability or fatigue or... whatever the hell this was?
It didn't feel bad exactly. She felt warm. Relaxed, in some way that had nothing to do with how her physical body felt. Her hands, still properly immersed to the wrists in the contact gel, tingled, like the thawing-out after coming into a warm house from a cold night. She let reflex take over, rippled her fingers in the most basic connection check that A WHISPER OF FEAR would respond to. WHISPER's AI recognised the pattern and responded with green readouts.
"Don't log those." The voice that cut through her ears spoke much quicker than she was used to. Fonie stopped halfway through the thought of directing her fingers to shunt all the status warnings to logs for later analysis.
Still fighting a bit to steady her breath, Fonie managed, "What... what was that?"
The cockpit displays flickered back to life, every single one marred by some popup or other announcing an overload. Fonie shook her head, blinking hard. Her headset slid against her hair and ears, the sound raspy and oversensitised. For a moment she let herself sag against her harness - just the way you weren't supposed to, especially in moments of vulnerability or fatigue or... whatever the hell this was?
It didn't feel bad exactly. She felt warm. Relaxed, in some way that had nothing to do with how her physical body felt. Her hands, still properly immersed to the wrists in the contact gel, tingled, like the thawing-out after coming into a warm house from a cold night. She let reflex take over, rippled her fingers in the most basic connection check that A WHISPER OF FEAR would respond to. WHISPER's AI recognised the pattern and responded with green readouts.
"Don't log those." The voice that cut through her ears spoke much quicker than she was used to. Fonie stopped halfway through the thought of directing her fingers to shunt all the status warnings to logs for later analysis.
Still fighting a bit to steady her breath, Fonie managed, "What... what was that?"
Elra's voice softened, closer to its usual purr. "I'll explain, but first, tell me how you're feeling. Are you ok?" There was even a warning popup over the small comms screen just above Fonie's left-hand interface, covering the live feed of Elra's heart-shaped face and waterfall of honey-gold hair.
"I'm okay... condition green." Fonie felt her training resurface. "I'm showing overloads on... every sensor surface? That can't be right."
"I didn't ask about your Frame," Elra chided gently. In front of the WHISPER, much closer than regulations permitted, floated A CHORD OF VEILS, her armour shimmering purple-turqoise in its Hashimoto-Izubuchi phonon shield. Even the smooth, breathy tone of Elra's voice couldn't diguise her Frame's blocky deadliness. "Or your condition. How do you feel?"
Fonie took direct, conscious control of her own breathing and forced it to slow down. Elra has started asking her that question not long after they'd become wingmates, and she seemed to ask it more and more frequently as the tour of duty went on. She'd barely understood what the other pilot meant at first.
She took a long moment, letting her awareness slide down her spine, inside her ribcage, deep into her gut the slow, liquid way that she normally pushed her hands into contact gel. It felt easier than usual. She felt wrapped in something soft and warm. Like a morning lie-in, except without the scratchy fabric of bedding. Like a hot bath after a long workout, except she didn't have to worry about towels or the weird rules about who should and shouldn't see what parts of her body when she got out.
"I feel... good." Hearing it back through her headset as she spoke, Fonie was surprised to hear some of Elra's softness in her own tone. Normally her voice sounded harsh, sharp-edged. On bad days she had to duck the monitor volume. Exploring her throat with her breath, she said, "Warm... relaxed? I'm sorry, I-"
"Hush, babe. No apologies." The CHORD made a pantomime of lifting one finger to her lips. Behind her, thousands of kilometres distant, the sulfur-brown cloud wall of G.234908's upper atmosphere roiled. Elra said, "I won't tell you we're not on duty, but it's still T-minus eighteen hours and the sats are all green. The SYMPHONY won't even be in-system for half a day yet."
Fonie pulled herself upright again. "But, but I had a malfunction. We should-"
"Not a malfunction." There was laughter in Elra's tone. Fonie wished she could see her wingmate's face clearly, but she didn't dare clear any of the popups until Elra explained.
"How could that not be a malfunction?" Fonie's voice rose. "I whited out on all channels! I'm looking at-" she paused half a breath to count them - "seventeen different overload warnings."
"Sweetness, relax. I told you, remember?" If Elra had been speaking to anyone else, Fonie would have thought she heard teasing in the other woman's tone. She teased a lot. But Fonie trusted her.
There's something I want to try, she'd said, and, It should feel good, but it'll probably send your system a bit haywire. It had certainly done that. Fonie said, "What did you do? What was that?"
"Phonon resonance," Elra said, and Fonie could hear the slight, lopsided quirk of her lips in it, could picture her expression perfectly. "Now you know why they train us to keep our distance."
"Yes, I see how that would be disadvantageous in combat."
Elra laughed. "Oh babe, if we got close enough to resonate in combat we'd be dead from crashing into each other, resonance effects are trivial at five metres, never mind fifty."
The operational standard officially called for a minimum Frame-to-Frame distance of two hundred metres except for overwatch deployments in atmosphere. The proximity warnings lit up at a hundred-twenty, and few pilots would risk getting closer than seventy. "I don't understand."
"They keep us apart because it feels good to be close. Doesn't it?" A CHORD OF VEILS lifted her hand towards A WHISPER OF FEAR's cockpit, almost as if to stroke her cheek. Fonie felt hair prickling on the backs of her arms as she watched the plasteel talons approach. "Remember how you reacted the first time I kissed you? Same deal, but for our Frames."
no subject
on 2024-10-05 01:54 pm (UTC)Robot kisses... 😮😮😮